His expression lightened and as he strolled over to peer at Dame Margery’s portrait, looking so normal and conversational, Harriet had to remind herself that it was a real gun that dangled so negligently from his hand.
‘Things suddenly fell into place,’ he went on, with a pleased laugh. ‘I wound up here, which was almost enough to restore my faith in miracles. There was no mention anywhere on the Web of the Attlins having a fabulous jewel in their possession so it didn’t take a lot of guesswork to decide that any hiding place the Attlin family had might be connected with the legendary Roman villa, the ruins of which were known to be undisturbed. I set about establishing to all and sundry that I was burningly interested in the late Romano–British period and that I liked nothing better than pottering about Roman ruins.
‘I was planning on suggesting to Mr Attlin that he should let me finance and oversee a small, exploratory dig when two things happened. The first was that just before Christmas old Misselbrook, the Attlins’ tenant farmer, thought he was dying and sent for me. I let him talk and he told me that he’d found a way down into the ruins: “I know you likes them old things, Vicar.” He’d been getting rid of badgers illegally, using snares and poison and so forth, and when he was digging out one of the setts he spotted that the badgers had broken through over the centuries into a brick-lined chimney, or so he thought. He didn’t venture down there – too old and rheumaticky – but he told me he was sure it led to the ruins of the villa that his “old dad” had told him about.’
John shrugged. ‘He was a cantankerous old devil, and when he didn’t die after all, he took to avoiding me, though he needn’t have worried; I couldn’t have cared less about his badger-killing exploits. I was just wondering what to do about this new bit of information, when I fell foul of Brendan Whittaker.’
The pleasant expression vanished for a moment and Harriet shivered. A glance across the room showed that Rory was still lying doggo; at least, she hoped that was it. Brendan, on the other hand….
‘He found out something, guessed rather, about my private life. Something I really didn’t want anyone to know.’ The light, pleasant voice had an edge to it now. ‘So, to get him off my back, and at the same time to make use of him for manual labour, I told him I was trying to locate the Attlin treasure. Spun him some rigmarole of a letter found in the vicarage, not the archives, and filled him with tales of golden guineas, Saxon torcs, Civil War silver and so forth. He wasn’t very bright and he quite enjoyed a break from his job with Gordon Dean – all this oil business, which Brendan knew a lot more about than he ever let on. Gordon, on the other hand, had no idea about Brendan’s treasure-hunting activities; no way he’d let his boss in on the act. Then, would you believe it? Mike Goldstein blundered in on us one night last week.’ He shook his head. ‘Mike saw Brendan drive at old Attlin, so he had to be brought in on it, of course. Bloody stupid thing to do, but that was Brendan all over.’
‘I think the family always knew there was a hiding place,’ Harriet ventured, pale at the casual mention of the attack on Walter, but too scared to react. ‘The present-day family, I mean; it was just that the location was lost somehow. I remember my father telling me about it; his mother was some kind of cousin on Walter’s father’s side. If it was written down, there must have been a reason: perhaps the heir was too young to be told? But whatever happened, the secret was lost.’ She hesitated, unwilling to trigger his anger. ‘Have you considered that the same thing might have happened with this jewel? That Aelfryth’s Tears might have been lost hundreds of years ago? Maybe spirited away, either by the family or by some other agency?’
‘Of course I have,’ he nodded impatiently. ‘If I can’t find it, obviously I’ll have to give up on it. I’d expected to have a lot more time to search the ruins anyway, and if nothing turned up there I had in mind a back-up plan involving Edith.’ He glanced over as Rory grunted. ‘Back in the land of the living, are we? Oh yes, marrying Edith was to be my last-ditch solution, but that’s not an option now, not after tonight’s little performance. Still.’ He looked pleased with himself.
‘I’ve systematically transferred money into several overseas accounts, as well as setting up a few more around this country, under a variety of aliases and, of course, Colin had no idea I knew his account number and PIN. What with that and the Attlin plate….’ At Harriet’s gasp he nodded smugly and reached out a foot to the large holdall beside him. ‘Oh yes, that really was down in the Roman ruin in a rotten leather bag. Mike found it this evening. I couldn’t let him go free, knowing that little secret; this isn’t just silver, you know, some of it is silver-gilt. Collectors all over the world and no questions asked. I’d have liked more time to explore down there, but there it is.’